


Over the Pool Table

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2018 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Dean Winchester, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: Dean needs to learn a lessonSquare: Humiliation





	Over the Pool Table

Sam turns his phone over to check the time- 11:47- and then lays it face down in the table once more. He glances across the bar to where Dean is getting them new beers and frowns at what he sees.

Dean is leaning against the bar, chatting with a pretty young woman. That alone isn’t a cause for alarm, but the way she’s leaning in close and playing with the collar of his button-down shirt definitely is.

Sam shoves his phone in his pocket and crosses the bar in a few long strides.

“Omega,” he growls, grabbing the back of Dean’s collar and dragging him away from the girl. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dean flushes, pink all over his freckled cheeks and down his neck. “I’m sorry, Alpha, I-”

“No, it was my fault,” the girl cuts in- a Beta, Sam can smell her. “I saw his mating bite, I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

Sam eyes her. “I can’t do anything about you. But Dean here knows better and him I can do something about.”

Dean’s whole body goes tense and he fights a little when Sam drags him to the nearby pool table and shoves Dean’s chest down on it. “Alpha, please, not-”

“Here?” Sam finishes, already undoing Dean’s belt one-handed. “That’s not your call to make, Omega.” It’s true. The law dictates that Sam, as Alpha, has leave to punish his Omega however, wherever, and whenever necessary.

Dean gives in with a whimper and Sam yanks his jeans down, revealing blue satiny panties to the bar patrons, who are beginning to gather. A few chuckle and Dean’s flush deepens. He has his arms tucked up on either side of him, fingers clenching and unclenching against the fabric of the tabletop.

The panties go down, too, and Sam kicks Dean’s legs as far apart as they’ll go with his jeans pooled around his calves. The Alphas present let out some whoops at the sight of Dean’s cock, locked tight in a metal cage. Dean whines and Sam’s own cock plumps up at the sight.

“You brought this on yourself,” he reminds Dean, pulling Dean’s hands around to pin them in the small of his back with one of Sam’s hands around both his wrists. His other hand pets over the curve of Dean’s ass. “Count thirty for me, Omega.”

That’s all the warning he gives. The blows come raining down, sharp smacking sounds ringing through the bar above the approving words of their audience and Dean’s shaky counting. Sam knows what he’s doing, making sure things are evenly balanced between the two sides.

Around ten, he slows things down to take a more directed- thoughtful feels like the wrong word- approach that leaves handprints on that soft, pale skin. He knows Dean will have some light bruising, a reminder for at least a few days of who he belongs to and what happens when he strays.

Dean starts crying around number seventeen. Sam doesn’t stop- couldn’t even if he wanted to. It does no good to give into things like tears. If he doesn’t follow through on the entire punishment, it would make him seem an unreliable Alpha. He promised thirty, so thirty is what Dean will get.

By the time thirty finally rolls around, Dean is a mess of snot and tears on the pool table. Sam looks down at him with disgust and leaves him there to ask the bartender for a wet rag. The rag is handed over and Sam drops it in front of Dean’s face.

“Clean up after yourself,” he snaps.

Dean sniffs and sits up. He moves to pull his pants up, but it stopped by another smack to his bright red bottom.

“Did I say you could do that?” Sam growls, pushing Dean back down.

“N-no, Alpha,” Dean manages. “I’m sorry, Alpha-”

Sam is unrelenting- he has to be if he wants Dean to learn his lesson. “Ten more, boy. Count them.”

Dean does, voice trembling with every number. When the ten are finished, Sam lets him up again and Dean dutifully scrubs his mess from the fabric of the pool table.

“Now give the nice bartender his rag back,” Sam orders. “And close our tab.”

Dean shuffles over to the bar and does just that. The girl he was flirting with is purposefully not looking at him, very intent on picking apart her napkin.

“Good,” Sam praises when Dean returns. He turns to their small audience. “My apologies for the disturbance. Dean is very sorry, isn’t that right?”

Dean nods, staring at the slowly-drying wet spot on the pool table.

“Dean,” Sam says briskly. “What happened to your manners?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Dean stammers, fingers twitching nervously against his bare thighs.

“Come on, Omega.”

Sam grips the back of his collar once more and leads him from the bar. Dean keeps his head down as they make their way across the parking lot to the Impala. Sam guides him down into the passenger seat, smirking a little when Dean’s bare ass hits leather and he hisses.

Sam settles into his own seat and grabs the tissue box he left in the back seat earlier. He gently wipes Dean’s eyes and nose, instructs him to blow like he would a child, and then presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

Before Sam can pull away, Dean yanks him down into a brutal kiss. When they come up for air, Sam laughs.

“I’m guessing it was good?” he asks, bumping their noses together.

Dean just growls and kisses him again, dragging Sam’s right hand down behind his caged dick to where he’s slick and open. Sam chuckles wickedly and pushes two fingers in without preamble. Oh yeah. Dean’s more than ready for his cock.

“L’il slut,” he teases, sitting back and turning the car on- a little awkward with his left, but he manages- and pulling forward through an empty space. He curls his fingers against Dean’s prostate, grins at his moan and the way Dean’s own hand clings to Sam’s forearm. “Don’t worry. Soon as we’re at the motel, I’ll fuck you the way you want. Maybe I’ll even unlock this pretty little Omega dick.”

Dean reddens again, but a gush of slick tells Sam all he needs to know. Well, that and the fact that tonight was all Dean’s idea.


End file.
